Plucked Wildflower
by Schingiuire Vristalica
Summary: A one shot about how Alucard's capture might have gone. Abraham x Alucard foreshadowing.


Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing nor its characters.

Through all the centuries there had been many hunters. Each one had called himself the vindicator. It was as if each hunter had learned nothing from the one before him. They would each enter the villages to make friends and get information. Only the tales from the countryside and superstitions were all that were given to them. None of them succeeded, though several did fall to becoming his children. Though it was true vampires could only turn virgins of the opposite sex of the vampire. Being the first, and the most powerful, he was exempt to this rule. No man or woman was safe from his bite. Through all these hunts, he found himself becoming cockier, though with good reason. Nothing could defeat him, no one could hope to come close to his power. With each death, each victim, and each year, he would become stronger.

It wasn't until the Vatican came upon his lands that he truly began to feel the pressure of the hunters. First they sent a priest. This man was much more careful than the normal humans that called themselves hunters. He was crafty and was able to get into the castle without the vampire's knowledge. Vlad woke to find himself sealed in a room by the holy wafer and various other holy spells. It was that night he had truly felt close to death, if not for the stupid fool missing his heart with the stake, he would have lost. Vlad had torn this one to shreds, scattering his pieces and parts throughout the forest, and making sure to send his cross back to Vatican wrapped in a bloody piece of cloth.

The second had been a bishop, and one of much greater challenge. It was the first time in many, many years he had been chased through the woods with a mounted hunter on horseback after him. Again, Vatican might have had him, and almost did, but for one small, foolish mistake. The forests were filled with wolves, and wolves were his minions of the night. Vlad took to the trees, while the wolves did their work. Again Vlad sent the man's cross, and this time, a finger to the Vatican. The did not send another man after this.

After the last hunter, Vlad went to the elders of the surrounding towns. He offered them a deal of sorts. He would not prey upon them, or their livestock, if they would no longer aid the travelers who sought him out. They would only give them crosses and say a prayer, but nothing past that. Those that were caught helping the hunters would be added to the gruesome flowers that grew in his impaling gardens.

At first the old men had been skeptical of him, wondering if the word of a creature that had made deals with the devil could be trusted at all. They kept their end of the bargain, and he kept his. Villagers stopped dieing, and the hunters that arrived found themselves shunned by the locals, except for the few stupid ones that went against the agreement with the local vampire king.

Years passed perfectly in this manner. The Vatican eventually stopped sending hunters, for they had finally seemed to realize that it was impossible to take out the vampire king. The vampire hungers came less and less, and soon Vlad found himself starving. Being a man, or vampire, of his word, he would not go against the agreement he had made with the villagers, not yet anyway. But he needed to find some way to feed himself.

He began to learn English, as well as doing extensive research on their people, culture, and cities. It seemed the easiest target of the entire known world. The culture was located so far away from his own that his species would be unheard of, and most likely laughed at. They were a great nation of science, and kept their minds closed when it came to creatures like himself. The only monsters they knew of were human monsters, those murderers that could kill without remorse. It was the perfect hunting ground.

Letters were sent, and replies followed soon after. Within a few months, Vlad had visitors arriving from England as well as France, for it would be suspicious if too many of one people would disappear into his land. Their blood was sweet, delicious, and full of knowledge of this new world.

It had become a little hobby of his to receive newspapers from most of the major cities over the world. He found it amusing how each would slander the other in different stories. Though, it was the small stories that attracted his interest. His favorite was that of a man named Helsing. The articles about his slandered his name, for he had turned his back upon the catholic faith. His side of the story was never published, and Vlad couldn't help but wonder what it was. A true unbeliever and heretic, they called him. The man was a hero! A saint if Vlad had ever known one! It would be lovely to meet the human one-day.

It was several years before he felt confident enough to begin planning his trip to England. His agent, a man named Harker, was helping him put things together so he would have a lair before he arrived. It was one of those nights by the fire in his study that he found another article about the Helsing family. It was not the same Helsing, as the first man's had been Stephan Helsing. This man must have been his son or of some relation to him. This man's name was Abraham. It was a short article, no longer than a few lines, and one he would have normally overlooked if not for the name. It spoke of Abraham as a great doctor of England, one who had saved many lives from unseen intruders. It spoke of him as a terrific person, and wonderful saint to the protestant people. There was no more, but it was interesting to see how the family line had moved on.

OoOoO

England turned out to be everything he wished and more. Mortals were extremely ignorant, believing his lies of having an odd, but completely non-contagious disease. Many of the women saw him as a hopeless romantic. They would smile at him in the streets, and wink at him as he passed them in stores. Amusing as it was, most men did not see him in the same way, but there were a few whose thoughts told otherwise. England turned out to be his Garden of Eden. Easy meals mentally begged to be taken. Vlad began to wonder if this new hunter ground would be the perfect place to start a new kingdom, and a new family.

He started with a few men, taking his time in turning them, he wanted to test the knowledge of the doctors fully before turning anyone. When his experiments died, and the medical humans could find no solutions, Vlad made his move on a woman he had been watching. Her name was Lucy, nothing more than a giddy child, but a beautiful one. It was always those who were ignorant that were the most fun.

There was only one mistake. Something simple, and so stupid he would have laughed at it for if he had not fallen prey to it. There were hunters everywhere, and his favorite Helsing seemed to be one of them.

As it seemed, he had targeted the fiancé of a hunter's friend. Abraham was a man of medicine, and knew the cures to even the most laughable diseases. Even when Mina began to fall prey to the same symptoms as Lucy, the men had laughed at Abraham's diagnosis, though they did not laugh for long.

Vlad began to find his liars desecrated with holy markings and blessings. His hiding places were being rooted out one by one. These men were no fools who declared themselves to be God's holy hand. No, these men were true hunters, and were quickly catching up with deadly tactics.

After a face-to-face confrontation with them, it was time to leave England. He would gather his forces and return to conquer this new land. They followed, in what turned out to be a very risky, but for him, fatal play of hand. Abraham caught him in his coffin while the others destroyed his allies.

Just waking from a sleep, there was nothing he could do to stop the stake from coming down. It tore through his chest, ripping through bone and muscle to pierce his heart. With a hammer, Abraham made sure it would not come out so easily. The cry of agony that wrenched from Vlad's lips appeared not to faze him in the least. He was just killing another disease, administering the antidote for another virus.

Abraham nearly nailed him into the coffin. Vlad could feel the point of it pierce straight through his heart, and barely poke through the skin of his back. With weak arms, Vlad was able to pull himself out of the coffin, only to have Abraham kick his feet from under him. His life force was draining rapidly from him, and with it, his energy to fight back.

With a strong axe, Abraham stood over the vampire, ready to remove its head. Such a combination, then, would have ended his existence upon Earth. Vlad looked up at the hunter, knowing the end was coming, but making sure the man could see the unveiled hate that raged inside. The silly old man did not bring the axe down, but instead looked deep into the beast's eyes.

Abraham did bring the axe down then, but not to remove his head. The cracked the blunt end of the axe over the top of Vlad's skull. The action shattered bits of his skull, as well as creating a large gash, and killing any and all thought. Vlad slumped into a state of complete unconsciousness as his body involuntarily worked to heal his wounds on what little energy he had left.

"Not yet, Count. Not yet, Vevode." The voice was cold, and crueler than the vampire could have understood at the time.

OoOoO

When thought came back to him, it came back slowly. Each of his senses returned, as if waking from a dream, one by one. First came his hearing. He could hear angry loud voices arguing over him. Next came his feeling. The feeling of a wooden stake corrupting his heart brought waves of agony through his body. His voice came back in a small cry as he reached up with a shaking hand, trying to get his fingers around the end of the stake to pull it out.

His sight had not yet returned. With his skull still healing, it was understandable. He could not see, but heard and felt the rough hands grabbing his wrists. They flipped him over none too kindly, pushing him into the cold soil. The pressure against the stake in his chest intensified as they pushed him into the ground, and he let out a strangled cry, though did not have the strength to struggle.

They bound his hands harshly behind him. The chains were hot, silver no doubt, and burned into his flesh. They tied his hands, loosely bound his legs, and wrapped his torso in chains so they could lead him. Vlad grunted as Abraham dragged him up to his knees, and growled something into his ear. The vampire, in a state of shock, pain, and blood deprivation, could not understand him. His mind was still shattered from the blow of the axe butt only a few minutes ago, and he could not wrap his mind around the English words.

Actions speak louder than words. Vlad struggled helplessly in Abraham's steel grip as he watched the men hack his coffin apart, and set it aflame. A small sound escaped Vlad's bloodied lips as he watched the flames lick apart his final domain, his only true place of solitude and safety.

The sun had risen by this time, and he hissed, trying to curl into a ball from the burning rays. The sun was no enemy to him, but he had never liked it. It was amusing how the villagers thought it to burn him like fire. So silly were their tales. Abraham was smart though, knowing the sun would not harm him physically, but drain his energy like a sponge. Not only this, but he was built to sleep during the day, and the longer he was awake, the weaker he would become from exhaustion. Oh, this Helsing was a terror. He knew every little secret, every bane of his kind, and worked them together into a fatal mixture.

Believing his captive to be harmless in such a weak state, Abraham removed the stake, much to Vlad's relief. He was forced to walk behind the horses, all the miles to the nearest village. The villagers cheered to see the vampire captured, defeated and beaten down into the mud when he fought back.

Dracula was too tired to continue to fight, too weak from lack of blood, energy, and from the sunlight. Though, he still had his fangs, and the man was stupid enough to reach his arm across his striking range. Vlad struck like a cobra. He was not able to sink them into flesh, unfortunately, but ripped a chunk of cloth from the human's sleeve, as well as scaring him.

Abraham rewarded the bite to his companion with the blunt end of the axe…several times to the back of his head and between his shoulders. The vampire did not cry out, but grunted at the first hit, feeling bones shatter with each hit.

In a barely conscious state, Vlad gazed up at the hunter holding his bloodied weapon threateningly over the vampire's head again, almost as if daring the vampire to try and move, to try and rise from the mud. It was that moment that Vlad realized it was truly over. He had been defeated by a force much more powerful than his own. This force was not the same as his own power, but it was as if Abraham had a power all his own, a power the vampire could not recognize.

When he offered no more resistance, the villagers cheered yet again, and started up a game of sorts, throwing rocks, handfuls of mud, and anything else they could get their hands on. Abraham backed up, letting the creature take his humiliation at the hands of the people he had preyed upon for so many years. It was as if they had forgotten their agreement with him, though there was nothing in the agreement to protect him, and it was not as if they would aid him when he had fallen.

This humiliation continued for hours. Men left on horseback to alert the neighboring villages of the great festivity, and when Abraham and his fellows departed, vampire in tow, they found the next village waiting for them. Just as before, these men and women cheered the hunters, pelting the vampire with various debris. Vlad was too weak to hardly walk as this point, and hung his head in abject misery and humiliation, though the snarl on his face was not lost to several of the villagers. It was a dark promise. Vlad never forgot a promise, and the few villagers that noticed this exchanged looks of worry.

OoOoO

The third village they passed through, Abraham began to discourage the hurling of objects at the vampire, and even went so far as to dismount from his horse and scold the villagers and children. Vlad could not help but feel slightly vindicated, as if this man who had defeated him, tore him down, was now his protector. But then again, an owner would be none too pleased if a stranger kicked his dog.

At the final village, civilization turned into more of a town. These people were slightly less superstitious, they believed in vampires, and knew what Vlad was. They did not go so far as to pelt the creature, but smiled at Abraham, offering him gifts, cheers, and even money. Vlad lost his drive at the town, falling to his side, exhausted from trying to heal wounds that would never heal, blood loss, and his constant exposure to the sun. Abraham dragged him several feet before dismounting and tossing the vampire over his saddle like a felled deer.

Once upon the ship, and back to England, things became easier. Abraham found an empty crate, and boxed the creature into it. Though he was still chained, and his flesh now blackened around the wrists from the silver, there was a peace at being in the darkness once again. In the open, there was nowhere to hide from his tormenters, but in a dark, small space, the vampire felt comfort.

Having his coffin destroyed was the worse part. If he still had his last domain to look forward to, it would have been easier to brave the ridicule. He understood why the human had done it though. It was a simple physiological maneuver to break him. Oh, this man had so much to learn. Though he was trapped now, there would come a day when he would escape and return to his home. The villagers will feel his wrath, and there will be no one left to bury the bodies.


End file.
